


If Parents Were Bugs, We'd Drop Them Like Flies

by lgbtandmore



Series: Trans Fall Out Boy [7]
Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore, Pierce the Veil, Sleeping With Sirens, The Academy Is..., Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Gen, MINOR DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE, Nonbinary Character, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4356824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lgbtandmore/pseuds/lgbtandmore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a number of short fics about trans bandom and dealing with both unsupportive parents and parents who try to be supportive and get it wrong</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tyler

Josh opens his front door with a smile, because Tyler’s the only one who ever comes around and he loves spending time with them, but immediately drops it when Tyler clings to him, tears soaking through Josh’s shirt.

 

“Okay, okay, it’s okay, come on, let’s get you inside,” Josh says, pulling Tyler in enough to close the door, then walking them over to the couch and pulling Tyler down onto his lap.

 

Tyler sobs into Josh’s shoulder, and Josh holds them, kissing their forehead and rubbing their back comfortingly.

 

“I don’t get it, Josh,” Tyler says hoarsely, drawing in shaky breaths with tears running down their face. “It’s so easy to understand, isn’t it? I-I thought it was, at least, I just don’t fit as male or female. How hard is that, Josh? I love them Josh, why don’t they love me back, why don’t they love me back…”

 

Tyler trails off as they start to sob again, and Josh sighs, pulling them in tighter. “I don’t know, Tyler. I don’t know. It’ll be okay, I promise. It’ll be okay. You can do this. We can do this. _I_ love you. The fans love you. It’s not your fault, okay? This isn’t your fault.”

 

Tyler continues to cry, and Josh knows it’s going to be a long night, these nights always are. He’s okay with that, he’ll always be here when Tyler needs him, but he just wishes that Tyler didn’t have to need him.

 

Hours later, when Tyler has long since cried themself to sleep, Josh carries them to his bed and tucks them in, then grabs a spare blanket and pillow and heads out to sleep on the couch.

 

As he drifts off to sleep, he thinks, ‘ _Someday, it will be okay. Someday, Tyler will be as happy as they can ever be, and they won’t need me around to help. And that’s okay. That’s what I want.’_


	2. Kellin

Kellin sings it off. Which, he guesses, isn’t actually that great of a defense mechanism when people question his voice, too, but it works, as long as he stays off of social media and away from other bands’ crowds.

 

He would never trade who he is for the world, because he loves being himself. He loves wearing cute clothes, he loves his skirts, he loves his hair, he loves his skinny jeans, and he absolutely loves his voice.

 

But it makes it incredibly hard to pass, and his parents know that. _He_ knows that, but he also knows that he is feminine, and it makes him feel terrible to dress super masculine. His parents _don’t_ know that.

 

Phone conversations have become so repetitive that Kellin can quote them word for word at this point.

 

“Honey, why don’t you wear more masculine clothing? You look a lot like a girl when you wear those things.”

 

“Because, this is what I’m comfortable in. I shouldn’t have to change my own clothes to be accepted, I don’t want to pretend to be something I’m not.”

 

“It would be so much easier, Kellin, you wouldn’t have to worry about it all the time!”

 

“Mom, I won’t. I know what you’re trying to say, but really, that’s not what I want.”

 

“Okay. Visit sometime soon, okay?”

 

“Sure, mom.”

 

And the same conversation happens, every single time Kellin calls home. And he understands that his parents are trying, really, he does, but they just aren’t getting it, and he’s not sure how to explain it to them to make them understand.

 

He tosses himself into his music, occasionally tosses himself into the crowd, and he lets himself drown out his pain in a sea of screaming, sweating bodies. It’s not perfect, nothing ever is, but it’s the best he’s going to get. So, he’ll take it.


	3. Ryan

Ryan knocks on Brendon’s door, trembling and listening to the drip of blood on the cement as she waits. The door opens, and Brendon just takes one look at her and leaves the door open, wandering into the kitchen.

 

Ryan enters, closing the door behind her, and follows him into the kitchen. Brendon reaches into the freezer and pulls out some ice cubes, dropping them into a ziplock bag and handing it to Ryan, setting a box of tissues next to her as well.

 

Ryan puts the ice on her eye and some tissues under her nose, watching Brendon as he moves around the room, quickly preparing two cups of coffee and a full pot for later. He sets the cups down on the table, and Ryan takes a seat while Brendon leaves, dropping a blanket and pillow on the couch before sitting down across from him.

 

“Are you going to be okay?” Brendon asks. It’s the first word either of them has spoken so far tonight.

 

Ryan goes to answer, but the words catch in her throat, and she makes a choking sound, tears streaming out of her uninjured eye. “I don’t think so, no,” she chokes out, and Brendon stares at the table, nodding.

 

“Okay. Do you need a place to stay?”

 

“Yes,” she whispers, waiting for Brendon to start yelling, to show some kind of emotion, some kind of anger, _something_.

 

But he just nods. “And clothes, too, I’m guessing? Food, also?”

 

“Yes, fuck, Brendon, what are you doing, why are you _asking_ me?” she asks, and he sighs.

 

“Because if you’re kicked out, you don’t have any of those things, and I do have those things. I’m asking you to let me take care of you here, Ryan. I’m asking you to let me help you.”

 

“Why?”

 

“ _Ryan_ , you are my friend. And you’ve just been kicked out of your home. I’m not going to let you be homeless! It’s hard to believe for you, maybe, but I care about you and I think you’re important and I think the world has fucked you over and given you the short end of the stick every day for your entire life, and I’d like to give you something good for once. Is that too much for a friend to want to do?”

 

And Ryan wasn’t exactly _crying_ before, just shedding a few tears, but now, now she’s bawling, because she’s never known anyone to be kind, and of course the first time she’s ever been treated right is after she gets kicked out, of course it is, because that’s just how her life works.

 

Brendon stands up and walks around the table, pulling Ryan into a hug. “It’ll be okay now, okay? I’ll be your new family. We’ll be a small family, Ryan, just two siblings, and our cousins Jon and Spencer. How about that? No parents to get in the way, nothing to worry about. Just us. Okay? We’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

 

And when Brendon says it? For the first time, Ryan almost believes it.


	4. Pete

When Patrick arrives, the front door is unlocked like Joe promised it would be, and Joe is seated in the hallway against the wall across from the bathroom door. He looks up when Patrick approaches and gestures at the door. “All yours,” he says, and he clambers to his feet, heading towards the kitchen.

 

Patrick crouches down beside the bathroom door. “Pete?” he calls gently, and the only reply he gets is some muffled whimpering. “Pete, I know you’re in there,” he says, and there’s just some rustling of movement and the sound of someone blowing their nose, someone sniffling pathetically, and then a weight settles on the other side of the door.

 

“Pete, please, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened. Pete, please, talk to me, you don’t have to open the door, at least say something so I know you’re able to listen and respond,” Patrick says, and there’s something that sounds like a sob, but no words.

 

“Okay. Okay, that’s okay. You can tap the door, right? Tap on it if you can.” Patrick waits, and eventually there’s a sharp tap.

 

“Good! Okay, that’ll work. One tap for yes, two for no, okay?” he says, and almost cries with relief when there’s a single tap.

 

“Is this about the band somehow?” Two taps.

 

“Me?” Two taps.

 

“You?” One tap.

 

“Okay. Personality related?” One tap.

 

“Oh god, did you tell your parents? Pete, you said we’d talk about it first, we agreed we’d help you figure out the best way to do it. Did you tell them?” One tap.

 

“And they didn’t take it well.” Two taps.

 

“Pete, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry. You didn’t deserve that, no one deserves that, Pete. It’s not your fault, okay? It’s not your fault, I don’t care what happened.”

 

There’s some rustling noises, and then a raspy voice speaks for the first time from under the door. “They said I’m they’re baby boy, that I don’t know what I’m doing. They’re right. I never know. I never do, Patrick, I can’t do this.”

 

“Shh, yes you can, Pete, yes you can, you are the bravest person I know, you aren’t their son, you’re their nonbinary kid, you are smart and unique and passionate and I care about you, asshole, open the door, please, for the love of god.”

 

There’s a long pause, and then the lock to the bathroom door clicks, and it opens just slightly. Patrick stands, slowly pushing the door open, and finds Pete now curled up on the other side of the room, behind the toilet, tremblingly uncontrollably.

 

“Oh, Pete,” Patrick whispers, kneeling down beside hir. “Shh, it’s gonna be okay, you’ll be okay, I promise.”

 

Pete whimpers pitifully, reaching out to cling to Patrick’s shirt, and Patrick pulls Pete closer, wrapping his arms around hir. They stay like that for a while, Pete clinging to Patrick and shaking, Patrick doing his best to try and anchor Pete, to at least give hir something to hold on to.

 

“Have you eaten?” Patrick asks eventually, and Pete shakes hir head.

 

“No, I told them right before dinner, I didn’t want to do it after, I was afraid they would be tired and ignore me that way.”

 

“Okay. Okay, we need to get you something to eat. Is there anything you want?”

 

“…Pizza?” Pete says tentatively, and Patrick smiles gently.

 

“Sure, we’ll get pizza. Are you ready to get up? Do you want to go sit on the couch?”

 

“Yeah, okay. I can get up,” Pete says, so Patrick stands up first, holding out his hand to help Pete up. He leads hir to the living room and has hir sit on the couch, going into the kitchen.

 

“Hey, Joe, are there any good pizza places around here that deliver?” he asks, and Joe looks up, nodding.

 

“Yeah, of course. I wouldn’t live somewhere without delivery, dude. Did you get Pete off of my bathroom floor?”

 

“Ze’s sitting in the living room right now. I think ze’ll be okay, but it’s going to take some time. Hir parents didn’t take it well, apparently,” Patrick says.

 

Joe nods again. “Well, let’s get hir some pizza. Pizza is always the first step to recovering from anything bad.”

 

“True,” Patrick says, and Joe picks up the phone. It’s going to be a long night.


	5. Hayley

“Hayley…?” Taylor starts to ask, but she just holds up a hand, walking silently into the studio. She stands in the middle of the room, nodding slightly as she looks around.

 

It’s sudden and unexpected when she grabs the nearest guitar by the neck, slamming it into the wall. She picks up the nearest drumstick, using it as a makeshift dagger to stab through one of the drums. She starts to destroy the drum set, kicking at it and throwing it, picking up another guitar to beat it with.

 

“Fuck!” she screams, slamming her fist against the wall. “Fuck! Fuck this! Fuck it all! I never asked for this! I don’t want this! I never wanted this, God fucking damn it!” She punches the walls until her hands bleed, stomps on broken pieces of stuff until there’s shards everywhere and more than a few gashes in her jeans, some of them dripping blood steadily on to the floor.

 

Everyone watches quietly from the control room as she tears apart all of the equipment, and after a few minutes she sinks to the floor, shuddering with silent sobs. Jeremy moves to the door silently and walks in, crouching down to pick her up. She holds onto him with all she’s got, and he carries her out of the room, setting her down in the corner of the control room.

 

Taylor quickly ushers everyone to the exit, trades a worried glance with Jeremy, and then follows everyone else out.

 

“Hayley?” Jeremy asks gently, and she heaves drily in response, bending over to clutch at her stomach.

 

“Hayley, what happened?” Jeremy urges, and she looks up at him, and Jeremy almost wishes she hadn’t, because the look in her eyes is so broken.

 

“I told my parents, over the phone. I was scared to do it in person, and God, Jeremy, I made the right decision, they yelled, said I needed to man up, said I needed to ask for help, I was wrong, and I’m _not_ wrong, Jeremy, am I? I don’t think I am. Am I?” she asks fearfully, and Jeremy shakes his head.

 

“You are _not_ wrong, and nothing about you is wrong, Hayley,” he replies firmly, putting a hand on her shoulder.

 

She makes a distressed sound, curling in on herself as much as she possibly can, and Jeremy sighs.

 

“Let’s take a day off, okay? We’ll go back to my place, you, Taylor, and me, and we’ll watch movies or something or play shitty games or whatever. Just something. Okay?”

 

Hayley nods, so Jeremy picks her up and carries her out of the room, nodding at Taylor to follow them back to his car. Jeremy drives, and Taylor sits in the back with Hayley, everyone not saying a word. It’s not an awkward silence but a comfortable one, and Hayley’s never been more grateful for silence.

 

They’re just pulling up into the driveway when Hayley finally says something. “Sorry I kinda destroyed the studio,” she mutters, and Taylor smiles kindly.

 

“A broken studio is worth nothing next to a broken heart, it’s fine. Let’s get some pizza, okay?”

 

The pizza’s great…but, the alcohol’s better.


	6. Gabe

Gabe didn’t say anything, just grabbed syr keys and left. It wasn’t like syr family noticed, really, they were too busy laughing at sym. Se drives. Se drives for hours, just trying to leave, trying to get out, trying to get _away_. Gabe’s not exactly sure where se is when se stops. All se knows is that it’s quiet and deserted and there’s literally nothing here.

 

Gabe gets out of the car, laces syr fingers behind syr head and paces, trying to breathe, trying to understand, trying to feel or think something, _anything_ , good. When nothing comes to mind, se screams.

 

Se screams at the ground, at the sky, at a snake that happens to be moving down the road. Se rips at syr hair and claws at syr arms and screams. Se lashes out at anything and everything possible, while words and vicious laughter swims through syr head.

 

_“No gender? What, the same way you have no money? The same way you’re not doing anything with your life? Gabe, if you wanted to tell us you weren’t something, you could have just told us that you weren’t going to go anywhere with that band of yours!”_

_“You can’t just have no gender, what, are you going to go around doing nothing? Wearing nothing? You dress like a boy, you are a boy, you can’t change that!”_

_“And I guess God just didn’t give you a gender, huh? Made everyone else male and female but just left you blank?”_

 

It’s the laughter that hurt the most. Because maybe, maybe they see what se is as wrong, but funny? This is anything but funny, this is fucking painful, and Gabe’s not seeing where the joke is in all of this.

 

When Gabe’s voice has died, and se has no air, no sound left to give, se gets back in the car and turns around. Se drives to Victoria’s house, and when she opens the door and sees sym standing there, she sighs and lets sym in.

 

“Didn’t go well?” she asks, and Gabe shakes syr head. Victoria’s already got her phone out, and she’s calling someone.

 

“Alex?” Victoria says, “It’s me. Yeah, se’s here. No, it didn’t. Call Nate, we’re having a band night in. Bring food.”

 

Victoria hangs up and walks over, hugging Gabe tight. “Fuck them,” she says firmly, holding sym out so she can look sym in the eyes. “Fuck ‘em. If they can’t accept you, fuck them. All of them. I don’t give a shit. We’re your family. You’re _home_ , Gabe. This, us, we’ll be your home.”

 

And for the first time since se drove away from syr family’s house, Gabe cries. Gabe leans into Victoria, wraps syrself around her, and sobs. She pulls sym tight, shushing sym quietly.

 

When the doorbell finally rings, they pull apart, and Victoria smiles. “Let’s eat, okay? Then we’ll talk more.”

 

Gabe nods, and Victoria lets Alex and Nate in, both of whom wrap Gabe in big hugs of their own. It’s one of the first good nights Gabe thinks se’s had in a while.


End file.
